Growing Pains V: Epiphany
by Debbie Kluge
Summary: Jealousy raises it's ugly head in the Quest household again . . .
1. Part I

**THE REAL ADVENTURES OF JONNY QUEST**

  


**Growing Pains V:  
Epiphany**

by

Debbie Kluge

  
  


**Part I**

  


"Hi, this is Barbara Mason. I'm not home right now, but if you'll leave a message after the tone, I'll get back to you as soon as I can. If you are in need of medical attention, please call my service at 555-7238 and they will refer you to the physician on call. If this is an emergency you can go directly to the emergency room at Penobscot Medical Center." The warm, familiar voice was followed by a long beep and then silence.

_Great!_ Benton Quest thought in disgust. _Just what I want to do . . . talk to a machine._ In a falsely cheerful voice, he said, "Hi, Barbara. It's Benton. Why don't you give me a call when you get in. Nothing urgent, just when you have a minute. Talk to you later."

Benton dropped the phone back onto the desk and sighed. He was fidgety and needed to get out of the house for a while. Knowing that Barbara Mason, the local physician in the Rockport/Camden area, didn't have office hours on Saturdays, he'd hoped that she might be free and willing to join him on an outing that afternoon. Barbara was a good friend and the two of them often did things together. They had an easy rapport and enjoyed many of the same activities. The Annual Church Street Festival was scheduled to begin today in Belfast and he was going to ask her if she wanted to go. He was sincerely disappointed that she hadn't been home. He sat for a minute longer and then shoved himself up out of the chair with determination. Well, if she wasn't home, then she wasn't home. He'd just go by himself.

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


Benton strode leisurely through the crowded downtown streets of Belfast, Maine, enjoying the cool, clear fall afternoon. He had seen a host of people he knew and had stopped to talk with many of them, but he was still on his own when he turned the corner and entered the courthouse square. Here, the sidewalks were lined with a host of food vendors, offering everything from fresh boiled lobster and steamed clams to newly pressed cider and taffy apples. He smiled as he wandered along with no particular aim in mind.

A sudden burst of familiar laughter caused Benton to turn his head, and he spotted Barbara Mason sitting on a nearby bench. She was dressed in a dark red sweater and black pants, and her lightly silvered dark hair was wind-blown. Her back was to him and standing next to her was a tall, distinguished-looking individual he didn't recognize. Benton inspected the man carefully from his vantage point some 20 feet away. He was probably in his early 50's, with a golden tan, sun-bleached, light brown hair, and brown eyes. He moved with the easy grace of an athlete, and his casual elegance and expensive clothes marked him as being successful in his chosen profession. As Benton watched, the man rested a foot on the bench next to Barbara and leaned down to say something. Whatever it was caused her to toss her head back and laugh in delight again. The stranger stood and bowed with exaggerated gallantry and then knelt at her feet. Seemingly out of nowhere he produced a single red rose, which he offered to her. When she reached out to take it from him, he smiled and kissed her hand. Even from that distance, Benton could see her blush. He felt the easy smile that he had worn just moments before fading away. Without a second thought, he veered toward the couple.

"There you are, Barbara!"

She swiveled around on the bench and smiled up at him as her escort's grin faded. "Benton, how good to see you!" She reached out a hand to him as a slight frown creased her forehead. "Were you looking for me? Is there a problem?"

Benton laughed and caught her outstretched hand reassuringly. "No. I just tried calling you earlier this afternoon to find out if you wanted to play hooky with me."

Her lilting laughter was like a tonic. "Like minds . . . But I'm afraid Mark beat you to it. He called last night to ask if I'd play tour guide."

Benton turned and smiled coolly at Barbara's companion. Offering his hand, he said, "I don't believe we've met. Benton Quest."

"Mark Renquist," the man replied in a deep baritone, taking Benton's hand and squeezing it firmly. He could see the other man sizing him up, as the stranger took in his graying red hair and beard, hazel eyes, and faded blue jeans. Benton could almost feel himself being cataloged and dismissed.

"Mark and I attended medical school together, many eons ago," Barbara supplied. "He was in the area and remembered I lived here, so he looked me up."

Renquist chuckled, looking down at her in a way that made Benton grit his teeth. "Well, not exactly. A mutual colleague in D.C. mentioned that he'd run into you a couple of months back at the AMA continuing education conference in San Antonio. I was there, too, but somehow I must have missed you. At any rate, he told me that you'd moved back to the old homestead to practice. I'd been planning to take some time off before winter, and when he mentioned you, I got it into my head to come up here for that vacation. It's been a while since I've been to New England in the fall, and it gave me an excuse to look you up again." He smiled at her with a gleam in his eye. "I never should have let you get away in the first place, you know."

Barbara snorted. "My dear Mark, back then all you could think about was getting through med school with the highest grades in the class so that you could have your pick of residency placements."

"Yes, but I didn't accomplish it." He reached out and caressed her nose lightly with one finger. "As I recall, _you_ came away with that honor."

Barbara blushed furiously. "Don't be silly, Mark," she said hastily. "You know as well as I do that grades don't necessarily tell the whole story. A lot of being a doctor still goes back to how well you relate to your patients. Furthermore, not finishing at the head of our class didn't hurt you at all. You still got the most prestigious neurology residency in the whole United States."

He smiled down at her fondly. "A position you could have had."

"**_I_** didn't want it!"

"So you're a neurologist, then?" Benton queried, taking an instant dislike to this man.

"A neurosurgeon," Renquist agreed. "I have a clinic in Bethesda, Maryland. What about you, Quest? What do you do?"

There was a tone of challenge in that question. Out of the corner of his eye, Benton saw Barbara inhale. "I'm a researcher," he replied hastily, deciding to be deliberately vague. He saw Barbara exhale as she raised an eyebrow at him.

"A researcher? On what? Sealife?"

"Sometimes," Benton agreed.

"Isn't this a rather backwoods sort of place if you plan to really accomplish anything?" Renquist replied, this time sounding amused and more than a little condescending. Benton could literally hear himself being dismissed once more.

"Oh, I don't know. It's quiet, which tends to cut down a lot on the interruptions." Benton shot back. A swift glance at Barbara told him that she was struggling not to laugh. He was fairly certain that she was thinking about some of the various 'interruptions' that she'd been required to clean up after.

"You live here in Belfast, then?" Renquist continued, obviously trying to learn more about him.

"No. I have a place just outside Rockport." He paused and then added drolly, " . . . . just up the road from Barbara, actually." Benton didn't miss the small frown that flickered across the other man's face, but it was gone in an instant. Starting to enjoy himself, Benton decided to go on a fishing expedition of his own. "You live in Maryland, you said? Is that where your family is from?"

Renquist laughed. "No. My parents were originally from the south, but they died while I was still in medical school. No, it's just me. I've got a place in the country on the outskirts of Silver Spring."

"Nice neighborhood," Benton commented dryly.

"I like it."

"Wife? Kids?"

"An ex-wife in Orlando and another in Georgetown. No kids. You?"

"Two boys, both grown. My wife died some years ago."

"That's a shame. My condolences." He did sound sorry, but Benton got the impression it wasn't for the usual reasons.

"Thank you." Glancing down nonchalantly at Barbara, Benton commented, "By the way, Barbara, I've been meaning to ask you if you're free next weekend."

"I'm on call. Why? What's up?"

"I managed to land tickets to that new Broadway show in New York everyone's been raving about and I thought you might like to go with me." Benton watched Renquist out of the corner of his eye. This time, the man's frown was obvious.

Barbara smiled up at him and said, "That would be lovely! Let me do some checking. I've got some people who owe me favors. Maybe I can trade off and free myself up. What night?"

"Why don't you try to get Friday, Saturday and Sunday? We can leave after your office hours on Friday evening and make a weekend of it."

"I'll see what I can do and let you know."

"Great! Well, I think I've intruded long enough, so I probably should be on my way. Nice to have met you, Renquist."

The man's sour expression said that the feeling wasn't mutual, but he replied pleasantly, "You too. Maybe we'll run into each other again sometime."

"You never know." Benton turned back to Barbara with a warm smile. "You take care and I'll see you soon." What devilish urge made him reach out and run his fingers lightly down her cheek, he couldn't say, but the expression on the other man's face made Benton feel extremely smug as he leisurely strolled away.

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  
Benton, Race and Estella were all sitting in the family room later that evening when the phone rang. Estella, being closest to it, answered. 

"Quest Compound. Hello!" She chuckled. "Yes, I know, we keep saying we're going to get together for lunch but we just never seem to accomplish it." She looked thoughtful. "Tomorrow? Yes, I think I'm free. Brunch sounds wonderful. When and where? That's sounds good. I'll meet you there about 10:30. Benton? Yes, he's here. Hang on a second . . ." She extended the phone to him. "It's Barbara Mason."

Reaching over, he took it. "Hi, Barbara."

"_**You**_ are not a nice person."

"Me? What did I do?"

"You had Mark sulking the rest of the day. I spent all of dinner trying to explain to him that we're just really good friends."

"Well, he was being such a pompous ass . . ."

"Now, now," Barbara chided him. Then she laughed. "He can be a bit overbearing at times, I'll admit. But he's a good person at heart, Benton, and he's a really fine surgeon. You just have to forgive his manner sometimes."

"**I** don't have to forgive him anything," he said in a deliberately finicky tone, but they both heard the undercurrent of laughter behind his voice. "So what about next weekend?"

"Oh, Benton, I really wish I could, but there's just no way I can get coverage. I've called everyone I know, but they've all made plans. We're looking at the last few weekends of nice weather before winter sets in and everyone is taking advantage of it."

"You're tied down all three days?"

"I'm afraid so. I'm sorry."

"Well, that's okay," he said, although his disappointment was obvious. "When's your next free weekend? Maybe I can shift the tickets around to another date."

"If you're talking about the entire weekend, not until right after Thanksgiving."

"Good Lord, Barbara, almost two months? Why? Surely you haven't traded off to work that much."

"No, but you know we're short of doctors in the area right now. The Medical Center has lost two of its staff ER doctors in the last month, and with Dr. Quigley retiring this past June and that new GP in Camden changing his mind about staying, we're spread pretty thin."

"I don't understand. There are a number of doctors in the area. Why are you the one always stuck on call?"

"Now you're starting to sound like Mark!" When Benton didn't respond to the deliberately light tone, she explained patiently. "Benton, it takes special certification to be able to work ER/trauma so not everyone can do it. Furthermore, most physicians don't like working the ER. It's high stress and there's a high risk of liability. I don't like it much, either, but we've got such a need for emergency room physicians, that I make it a point to stay certified and available. Unfortunately, that means I'm on call a lot of the time."

Benton sighed. "Okay, I'll see if I have any chance of exchanging the tickets for the weekend after Thanksgiving. How about dinner tomorrow evening instead?"

"Can't. Mark's taking me to dinner tomorrow."

"Monday?"

"Community Center function."

"Tuesday?"

"Late office hours."

"Wednesday?"

"Mark again."

"How long is he going to be here?!?" Benton snapped in frustration.

Barbara burst out laughing. "I'm sorry," she gasped, "but you sounded so put out." Struggling to control herself she said, "He'll be here through next weekend, but I've got to warn you . . . I'm trying to get him to chuck Bethesda and move up here."

"What?! Why???"

"Because he's a damned fine doctor, and we don't have a good neurosurgeon any closer than Boston."

"He'll never find enough patients to make a full practice around here."

"Yes, but he says he's ready for a change and he's bright enough to make the transition to family practice and ER without too much trouble."

"Not with his attitude, he's not."

"We'll see," she replied noncommittally. "Why don't I call you about dinner once Mark's left?"

"I really didn't like that guy," Benton grumbled.

She chuckled. "Well, the feeling's mutual, my friend, because he didn't like you much, either."


	2. Part II

**Part II**

  


"I swear, Estella, you should have seen the two of them! They were like two junkyard dogs fighting over the same bone!"

The lovely redhead leaned back and fumbled with her napkin, wiping the tears of laughter out of her eyes. "Oh God, I wish I could have been there! A _researcher_? He actually **said** that?"

Barbara sniffed and wiped at her own eyes, trying desperately to control the spurts of laughter that kept rising up to overwhelm her. "Yes! And when Mark asked if his work was on sealife, all he said was 'Sometimes'."

With a lightning-quick move, Estella sat forward and grabbed at the saltshaker, shifting it out of the reach of the blonde toddler sitting next to her. "No, Cricket, don't do that."

"Mine!" the child retorted, looking at her mother rebelliously.

"I don't think so, sweetheart. Here, this is yours." Estella handed her a plush stuffed duck. The child looked at it for a minute and then dropped it on the floor and strained forward again, reaching for a knife on the table in front of her. "_No_, Cricket. Not that either. You play with your duck." 

"No!" the child said stubbornly and reached back toward the table behind her.

"Christine Elena Velasquez Bannon, you stop that this instant! You insisted that we bring that duck. Don't you want to play with it?" Estella picked the stuffed animal up off the floor and inspected it carefully. "He looks pretty lonely to me . . ."

That caused the little girl's forehead to furrow and she reached out for the duck. Estella handed it to her and the child settled back happily in the highchair. The harried mother shook her head at her companion. "What ever made me think I was up to more children?"

Barbara grinned and wagged a finger at her friend. "It's your own fault. You should have been happy after Emily was born. But no, you just had to try again for that boy."

Estella glared at her friend. "It wasn't like we planned the second pregnancy, if you'll remember. Furthermore, **_you_** told me it was unlikely I'd be able to get pregnant again after all the trouble I had with Emily."

Barbara held up her hands defensively. "What did I know? And it all turned out well in the end, anyway, because Race got his son."

"_And_ another daughter. I suppose I should have anticipated twins, considering I am one." Estella's eyes lit up as she steered the conversation back to more recent events. "So you were telling me about Mark Renquist and Benton."

"'Sometimes', he says. I'll tell you, it was all I could do not to burst out laughing right then and there."

"I don't know how you didn't." Then she sobered. "It's not like Benton to be catty, Barbara. Is the guy really that pompous?"

"Oh, he can be. There's no doubt about that. And by the time Benton left, Mark was at his absolute worst. But then, Benton deliberately pushed all of his buttons, too. The truth is, Mark Renquist can also be absolutely charming when he wants to be. And when he lets down all of his walls he is . . . is . . ."

"What?" Estella asked, looking intrigued.

Barbara sighed. "I can't even begin to describe it. There's a vulnerability to him that very few people ever see. The real man . . . the one that stays so hidden . . . I'll tell you, Estella, **that** man is one no woman could resist."

"Is he good looking?" 

"Oh, yes. And a whole lot more than comfortable financially. I know a lot of women who would jump at the possibility of landing Mark Renquist."

Estella looked at her companion for a long moment and then asked, "And what about Barbara Mason? Is she one of those women?"

Barbara's eyes fell before Estella's penetrating stare. "Honestly? I . . . I don't really know. There was a time when I was absolutely crazy about him. In fact, we talked seriously about marriage and he even gave me a ring. But that was a long time ago. Now . . . now I guess I don't really know." 

"What caused you to change your mind about marrying him?" Estella asked.

"Differing goals, mainly. He was looking to be a big time, high profile surgeon in a large city where he could become wealthy." Barbara looked at her companion seriously. "You have to understand, Estella. Mark grew up extremely poor in the deep south where his family did whatever odd jobs they could come up with. The wealthy families called them white trash and Mark was always told that he would never amount to anything. He pulled himself up out of that through sheer will and determination. His arrogance and sarcasm are simply the defense mechanisms he learned when he was very young."

"It sounds like he had a really tough time."

Barbara nodded. "He did." She sighed, her eyes growing sad. "I was with him the night they called to tell him that his parents had died. They were walking along the side of a road on their way back home. The two sons of one of the wealthy local landowners were out joyriding and hit both of them. To give the kids credit, they did go for help, but the nearest hospital wouldn't treat them because they couldn't pay for the services. Oh, the hospital claimed that wasn't the reason, but that's what it came down to, all the same. By the time they were transferred to the local county hospital, it was too late. Mark swore that night that he would never be poor again."

"So he chose to become a big city surgeon as a way out," Estella said, nodding with understanding. "What about the young Barbara Mason . . . why was she there?"

"All I ever wanted was to get my education and then come back to this area and try to give back at least some of the things I felt I had gained by being raised here. But it was way too small for Mark. He came with me to visit once or twice, but was just too ambitious to stay. After we graduated, I relented and agreed to do my residency in Chicago so we could stay together. It's where I got my initial experience working in the ER. He kept assuring me that after we finished, we would find something that would be a happy medium for both of us. But I just hated it . . . was absolutely miserable. After a year, I simply couldn't stand any more, so I applied for a residency in family practice at Maine Medical Center in Portland and got it. Mark was furious. I've never lived through such a fight, before or since. But I stuck to my guns and left. It hurt a lot, but it was still better than being stuck in a place I hated so much. We both swore that when we were finished with residency we would find a place where we could both be happy and get married. But you know the way that kind of thing goes . . . being separated like that, we began to drift apart. By the time we finished, it was over between us and we'd pretty much gone our separate ways. I moved back to Rockport and set up my private practice. He stayed in Chicago, joined a high profile physician group, and became very successful." She shrugged. "Life goes on."

"Benton says you've asked him to join you here in Rockport."

"Not join me," Barbara protested, "just to come here to practice."

"Why?"

"We can use a surgeon of his caliber here."

"Are you sure that's the only reason?" When Barbara didn't answer, Estella sighed softly. "That's what I thought." The two women concentrated on their lunch, not speaking for several minutes. Finally, Estella asked quietly, "What about Benton?"

Barbara set her fork down and stared at her plate. "You know how I feel about Benton," she replied softly. "But, I'm never going to be anything more than a friend to him." When she looked up, Estella saw tears pooling in her eyes. "I want what you and Race have, Estella. That sense of oneness . . . of rapport with one special person . . . that goes beyond just being friends. And I'm not ashamed to admit it . . . I want the physical aspect, too . . . to feel his hands and mouth on me and to experience that fire." She glanced down at the contented toddler, who sat playing with her stuffed duck. "Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

The naked look of longing as Barbara gazed at the child made Estella ache for her friend, and she sighed softly. "Yes, I understand. I don't blame you. I remember what it was like being alone."

"Once, I thought I had the chance to have that with Benton. But it's been almost five years. Five _years_, Estella. He's had the chance to heal . . . to build his own self-confidence and find his own center. But our relationship has never advanced beyond friendship, and I don't think it ever will. He just doesn't see me that way."

"I think maybe you aren't giving him enough credit, Barbara. Just give him a little more time."

"How much time? Isn't five years enough? How much longer do I wait? Honestly, I think it's time for me to admit that I'm beaten. I can't win over his memories of Rachel. I need to start looking for something more."

"And you think you can find it with Mark Renquist."

"I don't know, but I think maybe I need to try."

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


Benton was sitting on the sofa reading the latest supercomputing technical journal and Race was reviewing security protocols on the study computer when Estella and Cricket returned from their meeting with Barbara. Emily was sprawled on the floor in the middle of the room with her nose buried in a book, and young Christopher was sleeping contentedly on the sofa next to his namesake. Both men greeted Estella cheerfully, and Cricket dashed directly to her father as soon as she was set on her feet. But Estella was distracted and walked past them without even appearing to notice their existence. Her forehead was creased in a frown and she seemed totally engrossed in her own thoughts. Both men rose and went to the study doorway to stare after her in consternation as she disappeared up the stairs in the direction of the Bannon suite.

"Do you get the feeling brunch with Barbara didn't go very well?" Benton ventured.

"Yeah, I do," Race said with a frown. "I wonder what they talked about."

"So do I."

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


By dinnertime, Estella was still preoccupied and Race decided to see if he could find out why. So, over dessert, he brought up the subject.

"So how was the get together with Barbara today?" he asked offhandedly. When she didn't answer him, he said a bit more sharply, "Estella!"

She jumped slightly. "Hmmm? What?"

"I asked you how brunch with Barbara was today."

"Oh . . ." she replied and suddenly her face flushed a bright red. "Oh, it was fine," she replied hastily.

"So what did you talk about?"

"Oh . . . stuff."

"What kind of stuff?" Race pursued relentlessly, certain now that it was something at that meeting that had upset her.

Estella looked at her husband with a touch of irritation. "I don't know . . . just stuff. The weather, the kids, what we've been doing recently, local gossip . . . that sort of thing."

"What about that ass, Renquist? Did she mention him?" Benton asked with sudden interest.

"Yes, she mentioned him."

"Well, what did she say?" Benton demanded impatiently.

Looking from one of them to the other in sudden exasperation, she snapped, "I believe the term she used was 'junkyard dogs' . . . and I'm starting to understand **exactly** what she meant!" Standing, she threw her napkin onto the table and said coldly, "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll check on the children . . ." Then she turned and stalked out.

Benton and Race stared after her in silence for a long moment. Finally, they looked at each other, and Race commented, "No, I don't think it went very well at all."

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


It was much later, after the children had been put to bed and the house was quiet, that Race decided to try again. As they prepared for bed, he asked quietly, "So are you going to tell me what has you so upset?" He came up behind her as she sat at the vanity and gazed at her in the mirror. 

Estella returned his frank gaze for a long moment. Then her shoulders slumped and she sighed. "She's wrong, Race. I'm just certain she is. And she's just setting herself up to be seriously hurt."

Catching her by the shoulders, he raised her to her feet and drew her to the bed. Sitting down, he said quietly, "Tell me about it."

She turned to face him as she shook her head. "Do you have any idea . . . any idea at _all_ . . . how much Barbara loves Benton? Or how **long** she's been in love with him?"

His eyes widened. "I've always gotten the feeling that she might be interested if he showed any signs . . ."

**_"Interested?"_** Estella said with a bark of laughter. "Oh God, you really don't know. Jessie told me almost five years ago . . . right after we were married . . . that she was pretty sure there was more there than Barbara was willing to say, and she was _soooo_ right. Barbara admitted it to me during that business when Jonny and Jessie moved out."

"She should have told him!" Race protested.

"That's what I told her at the time, but she refused." Estella looked at Race sadly. "She was right, you know. He needed space . . . time to learn who he was without the knowledge of how she felt. What he really needed was a friend and a doctor, and that's what she gave him. I can't even begin to imagine what it must have cost her to stand back and play that role. And then there was that business when he got so sick. That just about killed her. But once he was on his feet, she backed away again and gave him the space he needed."

"So why doesn't she tell him now?"

"Because she's scared. If she can't have him as a lover, she also can't bear the thought of losing him as a friend, and she's terrified that's what will happen if she admits the way she feels and it's not reciprocal. But I'll tell you something else. For all that she's very busy and surrounded by people who care about her, she's lonely. She wants that one special person in her life . . . that sense of being important to someone else."

"She's important to a lot of people around here."

"That's not what I meant."

"Yes, I know," he agreed with a sigh. "And I understand how she feels."

"So do I . . . all too well. And it doesn't help that I think she would have loved to have had kids. Haven't you ever noticed her with ours?"

"Yeah, I have." He looked at her sharply, suddenly putting some random facts together and not liking the result. "Just exactly who **is** this Renquist person anyway?"

Estella was slow to respond. "Someone she knew from medical school."

"And?" he pushed, sensing there was something else.

"And her former fiancé," she admitted in defeat.

"Oh, hell. I suppose he's trying to rekindle the old romance."

"Yes, I think he is."

"And she's interested."

"She's lonely," Estella corrected. "And he's the first man in a long time that's paid any serious attention to her."

"You know, I don't understand that. She's a lovely woman, warm and giving. I'd expect every available male within a hundred mile radius to be after her."

"I understand it. As far as everyone around here is concerned, she's taken. They all think that she and Benton are a couple and no one is prepared to encroach on his territory."

Race snorted derisively. "Great. And the only one who doesn't know it is Benton."

"That's about the size of it. She's tired and disheartened, Race . . . both of playing the buddy role and of being alone. Mark Renquist is seriously courting her, and I don't think that she's going to discourage him."

"It will be a real blow to this community if he marries her and takes her away from here."

Estella looked at him soberly. "Oh, it's worse than that. What if she manages to convince him to **stay**? What do you suppose it will do to Benton when he discovers how much he really does care about her . . . after it's too late?"


	3. Part III

**Part III**

  


It was nearing five o'clock on Friday afternoon when Estella entered the Market Basket in Rockport. On Monday, she had flown to central Illinois where she met with the archaeological staff at the University of Illinois to arrange for the loan of some materials she needed for her current research. Having collected a quantity of artifacts for analysis, she rented a car and started for home on Thursday afternoon. Anxious to get back, she had driven more or less straight through and by the time she reached the outskirts of Rockport, she was exhausted and seriously hungry. Rather than getting under Mrs. Evans' feet, she decided to stop in the market and grab something she could eat as she drove the remaining distance. She had every intention of falling directly into bed as soon as she arrived. 

She was wandering along the produce cases searching for something that looked appealing when she heard someone call her name. Turning, she saw Barbara and a tall, good-looking man coming her way.

"Estella, I'm glad I caught you. I tried calling the house, but IRIS said everyone was gone."

"Yes, I imagine so. Benton and Race were planning to be out on the boat today with the kids, and I just got back into town. Did you need something?"

Barbara looked sad. "Yes. I got a call from Naomi Smythe this morning. She wanted to let me know that Todd Washington was killed last night."

"Oh, no! How?"

"Hit by a car on his way home from school. He died in the trauma center in Augusta around midnight."

Estella rubbed her face wearily, trying to absorb the news. "This will break Jon and Jessie's hearts. They've stayed extremely close to all of the kids from that summer camp session they worked."

"Yes, I know." Barbara looked at Estella solemnly. "We need to let them know as soon as possible. I'd hate for them to hear about it through the grapevine. You look positively exhausted. If you have no objection, I'll call them. I'm sure they'll want to come home for the funeral."

"Yes, I'm sure they will. Jess will probably be at home by this time, although I doubt Jon will be in much before seven or eight. He rarely is."

"Still working away at the job?"

"Yes."

"He's got perseverance, I'll give him that," Barbara said admiringly. "To be honest with you, when he told us about it five years ago, I didn't give him six months."

"I don't think any of us did," Estella agreed with a tired smile. "But he wasn't about to give up . . . if for no other reason than to prove to his father that he could do it. And from what Jessie says, he positively loves it."

"Doesn't he miss all the travel?"

"Actually, he travels a lot more than you'd expect. Because he's so knowledgeable about the business and is such a good linguist, Garrett Blackman has him doing a lot of the corporate overseas work. He's also part of the company's premier troubleshooting team, which puts him on the road a lot. I think he misses being able to travel with the family the way he used to, but he's still very much of a globetrotter."

"Has he said anything more about school?"

"Oh my, you haven't heard about his latest little bombshell, have you? The company was so pleased with his work that they began pushing him to return to school almost as soon as he went to work for them. Would you believe he started attending part time that very spring?" Estella grimaced. "Of course, he didn't tell any of us, so Benton's pestered him ceaselessly about it . . ."

"Which made him all the more determined not to let any of you know what he was doing," Barbara said with resigned amusement.

"That's about the size of it," Estella agreed. "All the kids knew, and not one of them said a word. At any rate, the last time he was home he announced that the company has offered him a sabbatical next year so he can go full time and finish up. He should graduate with both a Bachelor's and a Master's degree at the same time Jess completes her Master's work. And do you know where he's graduating _from_?"

"Let me guess . . . M.I.T." Barbara began to laugh at Estella's nod. "So not only does he win the battle, he ends up winning the entire war. Why am I not surprised? But where in heaven's name has he found the time or energy to go to school **and** work 12 to 14 hours a day?"

"I have no idea where the stamina comes from, but somehow he's managed, even **thrived**, on it all." Estella shook her head. "You know, I think we all seriously underestimated Jon . . . maybe Benton most of all. Jess says that of the three of them, Jon used to consider himself the 'dumb' one. None of us ever thought that, but I don't think we ever really put him in the same class as Jessie or Hadji. Boy, were we wrong!"

"He's just different from the other two. Let's face it, you all used to say that he was more like Rachel than Benton, and this is a perfect example. He just doesn't have his father's interest in pure research, which Jessie and Hadji do. But once he found his place . . ."

"He blossomed. I know . . . as much as I hate to admit it, Jon and Jessie's decision to ignore what the rest of us wanted for them and go their own way was the right one."

"Well, I'm just thrilled. For a while there, I was very concerned . . . for all of you!" Barbara patted Estella's arm. "Don't worry about the news concerning the Washington boy. I'll see to it that the kids know what's happened and I'll let all of you know when the funeral arrangements have been made." A discreet cough from Barbara's companion caused her to flush slightly. "Good heavens, I don't know where my manners have gone! Estella, I don't believe you've met Mark Renquist. Mark, this is Estella Velasquez-Bannon."

"Of course!" Renquist said in apparent delight. He turned a dazzling smile on Estella, reaching out to catch her hand in both of his. "Barbara speaks of you often. I'd been looking forward to the opportunity to meet you."

Estella smiled back at the man and squeezed the hand that held hers. She couldn't exactly call it a handshake . . . the way he was holding it, she almost expected him to kiss it or something. "I'm pleased to meet you as well, Dr. Renquist. Barbara speaks very highly of you."

"Mark, please. And I hope you'll allow me to call you Estella."

"Please do. So how do you like our community, Mark? I know Barbara has great hopes of convincing you to stay with us."

"It's quite lovely." Estella heard his slight hesitation over the selection of the last word. "I'm certainly considering a move here. Getting out of the rat race of the D.C. lifestyle is very appealing." He glanced down at Barbara and smiled. "And there are certain other advantages, as well. In fact, I've been looking at real estate and I've spotted a lovely old Victorian home not far from Barbara that I'm seriously interested in."

"Really?" Estella said with a sinking heart. "How nice. I hope it works out for you." Turning back to Barbara, she said apologetically, "Look, I think I better get going. I'm just about done in and I need to get home before I lose it altogether."

The couple looked at her in concern, and before Barbara could say anything, Renquist volunteered, "Why don't you let us run you home? It wouldn't be any trouble . . ."

Estella smiled. "Thank you for the offer, but I can manage it that far." She picked up a bagel and a bottle of orange juice from the case. "A good shot of sugar and something to eat and I'll be fine. Will you give me a call later this evening, Barbara? I'd like to know what Jon and Jessie have to say."

"Perhaps you and your husband could join us for dinner some time soon," Renquist suggested, slipping a possessive arm around his companion and sounding more than a little proprietary.

Estella saw a flicker of surprise flash across Barbara's face, but it was gone quickly. "That sounds interesting. Why don't you get back to me when I'm more awake."

"I'll call you," Barbara said quickly, forestalling any further discussion of the idea. Estella nodded and waved as she walked away. As she was pulling out of the parking space across the street, she saw the two of them exit the store. Renquist still had Barbara tucked snugly against his side with one arm around her waist, and she was smiling up at him. Estella was struck by the expression on Renquist's face. All of the arrogance and forced charm were gone. In their place was an honest expression of joy. He looked down at the dark-haired woman nestled against his side with an openly loving expression, and as she watched, he leaned down and nuzzled the top of her head affectionately. Estella sighed as Barbara laughed up at him, her expression decidedly besotted.

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


The funeral was held three days later at the First Baptist Church in Waldoboro. The church was full and following the burial and graveside services, a meal was served by the Guild women back at the church. Hadji and his family had been unable to get there, however the rest of the Quest family was in attendance. Jon and Jessie had come straight home as soon as Barbara called, and had spent much of their time assisting the Washington's with the arrangements. Todd's father, who had been disabled many years before in a construction accident, now did woodworking for local area residents. His handmade furniture was in constant demand and he was well known and liked in the area. As a result, the funeral and subsequent events drew a large crowd. Conspicuous by his presence was Mark Renquist.

Estella watched the man as he moved through the throng. He was being extremely charming again and it troubled her. He seemed to be working the crowd . . . like it was a business function . . . trying to figure out who was of significance and who he could safely ignore. At the other end of the spectrum was Barbara, who paid attention to everyone equally and who was constantly surrounded by people.

"That's him?" a voice at her left shoulder said quietly. Estella turned her head slightly and found Jessie at her shoulder. She held her sister, Cricket.

Estella nodded and replied in the same soft tone, "What's your radar telling you?"

Jessie grimaced. "Shark. He's cruising the waters hunting for the best of the school."

"That's my impression, too." 

Jessie contemplated him for a bit longer and then said suddenly, "I want to meet him."

Estella looked at her daughter in mild alarm. "Jessica, don't you dare cause a scene. Barbara would kill us both."

"I won't. I promise. But I do want to take a closer look at him."

Estella sighed. "Oh, all right. But if you cause **any** trouble, this agent will disavow any knowledge of your actions . . . make a scene and you're on your own, kiddo."

"Got it," Jessie replied, shifting her little sister to her other hip. The two women began making their way through the crowd, deliberately moving in a direction that would intersect his path.

"Estella!" he called when he caught sight of her. Again, the charm was turned on her full force. "I'm glad I found you. We still need to decide when the four of us are going to dinner."

"Hello, Mark. How nice to see you again," she replied, forcing a smile. His excessive cordiality put her on edge, particularly considering the nature of the event. Before she could stop herself, she added, "But I wish our meeting could have been under better circumstances." She drew Jessie forward. "I don't believe you've had the chance to meet my daughters. This is my eldest, Jessica, and my youngest, Christine . . . or Cricket, as her father is fond of calling her. Jessica, this is Barbara's friend, Dr. Mark Renquist."

"How do you do, Dr. Renquist," Jessie said politely.

"Ms. Bannon," he replied, turning that brilliant smile on her and taking her hand. The smiled dimmed just a fraction as Jessie's tight grip prevented him from turning the touch into anything other than a polite handshake.

"It's very nice to meet you," Jessie replied sweetly. It took all of Estella's willpower to keep a straight face as the man retrieved his hand and flexed it gingerly.

"I understand you're attending M.I.T., Ms. Bannon . . . or may I call you Jessica?" Estella felt like gagging. The man was getting worse and worse!

"Yes," she replied, totally ignoring his question. "I began my graduate work this past fall."

Renquist was irritated . . . Estella could see it in the narrowing of his eyes. He was determined, though. He gave Jessie an approving look and said, "Quite an accomplishment. What was your major?"

"I earned a dual major in environmental engineering and computer science with a minor telecommunications engineering," Jessie replied easily. "My senior thesis was on utilizing computer modeling in the development of environmental solutions to hazardous waste contamination reclamation." Estella about lost it again. As she recalled, her daughter had described her senior thesis to _her_ as a paper on using computers to clean up garbage.

Renquist appeared to be at a loss about how to reply to that. Finally, he said, "You work with Mr. Quest on occasion, then."

Jessie arched one eyebrow at him. "I guess you could say so, since we cohabitate."

Renquist, who was in the process of taking a swallow from a cup of coffee, gagged violently and began to cough. Estella stepped up and thumped him on the back soundly as he struggled to get his breath back. "I beg your pardon?" he wheezed after a moment. "You live with Benton Quest?"

Jessie looked confused for a moment. Then her face cleared and she laughed. "No. No. I live with _Jonathan_ Quest . . . Dr. Quest's son. You confused me when you called him 'Mr. Quest'." It was Renquist's turn to look surprised, and Jessie explained patiently, "I've never heard him called that. He got his first Ph.D. well before I was born. He was . . . what, Mom . . . 18?"

Estella laughed. "He wasn't quite **that** much of a paragon. No, he was 20 when he earned the first one." She looked thoughtful. "That was the one in archaeology, as I recall. I don't remember exactly when he got the others."

"The **_others_**?" Renquist asked, looking from one of the women to the other. "How many degrees does the man have?"

"I have no idea," Estella replied honestly. "I know he's got four earned doctorates, but I've lost track of the number of lower level and honorary degrees he has."

"I thought he was a marine biologist or something."

"He is," Jessie agreed. "I think one of his master's degrees is in marine biology."

"He said he was a researcher!"

Estella looked thoughtful once more, then nodded. "Yes, that's probably the best description of what he does that I can think of. Benton's very hard to categorize because his interests are so broad. He's also an inventor, a troubleshooter, an excavator, a consultant, a programmer and computer design specialist of the highest caliber, an outstanding linguist, and whatever else happens to come along that catches his interest."

By this time, Renquist appeared seriously rattled. "What the hell is he doing _here_??? I mean, rather than being at a big time university or in a large city?"

"He likes it here," Estella replied stiffly, giving the man a less than friendly look. "We all do."

"Look, I don't mean to disparage Rockport . . . " he said, scrambling to recover, but Jessie cut him off before he could continue.

"Furthermore, his research compound is here."

"Wait a minute," Renquist said suddenly. "Are you saying the man is affiliated with the Quest organization? The one that's always in the news?"

Jessie snorted. "_Affiliated_ with it? He **is** the Quest organization . . . Quest Enterprises, the Quest Foundation, _and_ the Quest Charitable Trust. All the stock in the company is privately held within the family with Dr. Quest and his sons as the primary stockholders."

"But . . . but . . . that's a multi-billion dollar company!"

"There you are, Jess," a new voice said. Turning, the beautiful young redhead smiled at Jon and his father.

"Hi," she replied in a warm, loving tone, slipping easily into the younger man's arm.

Without even thinking about it, Jon leaned over and brushed his lips across hers gently. Cricket shoved at him insistently and he straightened again, grinning at the youngster. "Hiya, squirt."

"Not a squirt!" the child said spiritedly. Then she reached out for him. "Jonny!"

Jon laughed, taking the child from Jessie and nuzzling her affectionately, as Jessie said, "Hey, there's someone I want you to meet." Turning back, she gestured at the man with her. "This is the friend of Dr. Mason's that mom's been talking about. Dr. Renquist, this is Jonathan Quest."

"Mr. Quest," Renquist said formally, shaking his hand briefly.

"Doctor," Jonny acknowledged. Then he turned back to Jess. "Can you shake loose? Mr. and Mrs. Washington are just about done in and I've offered to take them home."

"Not a problem. Go get the van and bring it around and I'll be right there."

"Here, Jon, I'll take her," Estella said, reaching for her daughter. "Come here, Cricket."

"No!"

"Yes! Jon has something he needs to do. You have to stay with me."

"No!!! Go with Jonny," the child replied insistently, clinging to the young man.

The others laughed as Estella sighed. "I am going to be so **glad** when they get through the 'no' stage. Christopher's no better."

Jon grinned down at the child and said, "Tell you what, squirt. Why don't you go back to your mother for now and tomorrow morning we can play. I don't think you'd have any fun with us tonight."

"Promise?"

"Promise!"

Reluctantly, Cricket allowed herself to be transferred back to her mother and, with a pleasant smile, Jon walked off. Jessie turned back to the others. "I have to go. It was very nice to have met you, Dr. Renquist." Turning to her mother and the elder Quest, she continued, "I don't think you should expect us home tonight. We'll probably stay at the Washington's, just to make certain they're going to be okay." Spotting Race and her remaining siblings, she smiled and walked away quickly, calling, "Dad, wait up!"

Benton turned back to find Renquist eyeing him like a specimen again. In his charcoal gray, custom-made Italian silk suit, snowy white shirt and somber tie, he knew he presented a much different picture than the first time the two men had met.

"Renquist."

"Quest."

"I'm a bit surprised to see you here."

"I'm here with Barbara."

"I figured you must be. I thought you were heading back to Maryland yesterday."

"I decided to stay for a few more days. Barbara was distressed over the death of the boy and I didn't think she should be alone."

"That's good of you."

"I care what happens to her . . . a great deal."

"We _all_ do." An uncomfortable silence fell between the two men.

_Junkyard dogs is right,_ Estella thought in private amusement. She was having way too much fun watching them to do anything to interrupt the exchange. Suddenly, her daughter squirmed.

"Down, Momma!"

"No. There are too many people. You'd get lost."

**"Down!!!"** she insisted.

Benton chuckled and reached for the child. "Come here, Cricket. Why don't you come to me? I understand you're looking at real estate," Benton said to Renquist as he took the child.

"Just seeing what's available."

"You've decided to stay with us, then?" Benton asked, bouncing Cricket gently. She yawned and after a minute, she curled her head down onto his shoulder and began sucking her thumb.

"I'm considering it. I thought I might start by getting a place and spending weekends up here so I can be with Barbara." Estella felt the man beside her tense. _Oh ho,_ she thought, _so you aren't as disinterested as you seem, huh, Benton?_

"Will you be able to put together a practice up here? I don't know how much steady specialty work you'd get."

"Barbara seems to feel I could fill in around the specialty work without a problem."

"That's true. Someone who can work ER would be greatly welcome. Assuming you **are** ER certified . . ." Benton said, looking at him doubtfully. Renquist flushed slightly. After a brief pause, he went on. "Barbara rarely has a day when she's not on call and having someone else around that can spell her on those responsibilities would be a good thing." He chuckled ruefully. "I don't remember the last time we had dinner or went to a movie that it didn't end up being cut short by an emergency call of some sort!"

Renquist's scowl told Estella that the man had experienced the same problem firsthand. "It's unconscionable that she's required to work so much!" he snapped. "She never seems to have any free time. I've been trying to convince her to come to Maryland to visit. I'm certain she'd enjoy it and the rest would be good for her, but she just can't seem to get free. Why, do you know, she doesn't have a single weekend without being on call until after Thanksgiving?"

"Yes, I know. We've had to postpone our trip to New York until the Thanksgiving weekend for that very reason."

Renquist's eyes flashed in sudden anger, but before he could say anything else, Barbara joined them. "There you are, Mark. I'm sorry I abandoned you, but one of the local kids was sick and her parents asked if I could take a quick look at her."

Renquist turned on her in a flash. "You're working **again**? This is the first day in close to three weeks you haven't been on call. You promised me you would take a night off and relax!"

"I know, but the free clinic isn't open right now and the family simply doesn't have the money to take the child to the emergency room. It didn't take long."

"What is _wrong_ with you people?" he demanded hotly, turning on Benton. The child in his arms flinched and whimpered, burrowing against his shoulder "You never leave her alone! You even demand her services when you attend funerals!"

"Mark!" she said sharply, anger flaring swiftly. Then she lowered her voice. "This is neither the time nor the place for this conversation."

"By God, someone needs to say it!!"

"**_THAT'S ENOUGH!_** This is what I do. You know that. Rockport is a small community and I make it a point to make myself available to the people who need me. Not only are they my patients, they are also my friends." Turning back to Benton and Estella, she apologized. "I'm sorry. I think maybe we had better go. We'll pay our condolences to the Washingtons and then leave."

"Shhhh, baby, it's okay," Benton said, cuddling the still whimpering child. Flashing an angry look at Renquist, Benton said, "There's no need, Barbara. Jon and Jessie took them home a little while ago. This will be breaking up very soon, I'm sure." He rocked Cricket gently and rubbed her back. Finally, she relaxed and curled into his shoulder again. Her thumb found it's way back into her mouth and almost immediately, her eyes began to droop.

Barbara nodded and smiled at Benton in warm gratitude, reaching for his hand. "Thank you. I'm sorry I didn't have the chance to talk to you today. I was hoping to hear more about what's going on with Jon. Estella says he's in school!"

"Yes, and has been for years! Not that he told me. Oh well, I suppose I deserved it." They both laughed easily. "That's all right. Today was pretty crazy. Why don't you come out for dinner tomorrow evening? I don't think Jon and Jess are planning on heading back until Wednesday and Jon can tell you about it himself. He's pretty excited."

"That sounds lovely!"

"Wonderful. It's a date, then." As she began to turn away, he suddenly tightened his grip on her hand and said hastily, "Oh wait, one other thing . . ." She gave him a questioning look. "I **did** manage to get the theater tickets exchanged and I got a suite at the Plaza booked, so I think we're set for Thanksgiving weekend."

The look of pleasure and anticipation that flashed across Barbara's face and the one of fury that darkened Renquist's were both obvious as Barbara replied, "That sounds wonderful. I can really use the break. I'm looking forward to it." Releasing his hand, she turned back to Renquist and said coolly, "Come on, Mark, let's go."

As Benton and Estella watched the two of them thread their way through the crowd, Estella heard Benton sigh.

"I am so out of practice at this," he said mournfully. "I should have kissed her."

"Her hand, maybe," Estella suggested wickedly. "You **were** holding it and it would have been a wonderfully gallant gesture."

"Wouldn't that have burnt Renquist," he murmured softly, and Estella laughed.

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


"Well, Benton's not quite as clueless as I thought he was," Estella told Race that night. "I still don't think he realizes how Barbara feels about him, but at least he seems to be willing to fight for her."

"That's a step in the right direction," Race agreed. "And giving her the respect she's due when it comes to her work will go a long way toward making the right impression . . . particularly if you're right about Renquist getting possessive." He suddenly laughed. "Jess was telling me about her conversation with him. I would've loved to have seen his face when he realized exactly who Benton was."

"It was priceless," Estella agreed with a chuckle. "He sounded so superior . . . until it dawned on him that Benton could probably buy out his entire practice, several times over, without batting an eye. I'll tell you something, Race. That man will never fit in here, no matter how devoted he may be to Barbara. He sets his priorities and gauges the value of people and things based on their monetary worth." She told him about the exchange she had witnessed just before they left. "I get the feeling he hasn't changed much since their residency days. She said he was pretty money-driven back then, too. It's one of the things that broke them up to start with, I think. And Barbara was seriously angry with him this afternoon."

"That's a good thing. If he's still like that, she needs to know it before she gets in too deeply."

"That's true." Estella sighed deeply. "You know, Race, all I really want is for her to be happy, whether it's with Benton or with someone else. I just get the feeling that Mark Renquist isn't the right 'someone else'."


	4. Part IV

**

Part IV

**

  
  


The succeeding weeks were busy ones for the Quest clan. Everyone returned to their respective homes and jobs, promising to return at Thanksgiving; Benton became deeply immersed in research and then spent a week in Berlin where he was the keynote speaker at a conference on supercomputing; and Estella buried herself in the analysis of the artifacts she had obtained from the University of Illinois. Only Race had the opportunity to be out in the community on a regular basis.

During idle conversation over breakfast on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, Estella decided to catch up on events outside of the Compound. "Have you seen Barbara Mason recently? I haven't talked to her in a couple of weeks."

"She's around," Race replied. "I haven't seen her, but I've heard her name mentioned quite a bit."

Estella frowned. "What do you mean?"

"She's the leading topic of town gossip these days," he admitted, somewhat reluctantly.

"Why?" his wife replied, setting her fork down abruptly and staring at him. "What's going on? What are they saying?"

"Renquist's still around . . . a lot. He must have shifted his practice around or something because he shows up almost every Thursday evening and doesn't leave until first thing on Monday morning."

"He's staying with her?" Estella demanded.

Race shook his head. "No. He's rented a house not far from her. You know the one . . . the big, beige Victorian near the top of the hill that looks down over the harbor."

"I know it," she agreed. "So he's still pursuing her. What kind of success is he having?"

"Now, _there_ is where things get a bit more confused. They're seen out in public a lot. He escorts her to functions and takes her out to dinner regularly. He's still acting very possessive, but she's not showing any overt signs of reciprocating."

"You mean she's still acting like they're more friends than anything else."

"Exactly. But, naturally, gossip is running wild. I've heard everything from 'they're planning to get married at Christmas' to 'they're moving to Maryland after the first of the year' to 'she's trying to get rid of him and he won't leave her alone'. I think what it comes down to is that no one knows for sure _what's_ going on." Race grimaced. "People are constantly asking **me** about it. And _**everyone**_ wants to know where Benton is. The more brazen ones have even demanded to know what he's planning on doing about Renquist 'moving in on his territory'."

Estella made sympathetic noises. She imagined that if she were out and about, she'd be getting much the same treatment.

"I'll tell you one thing for certain, though," he continued. "The townspeople don't like Renquist. Not even a little bit. You know these people, Stel. They're not generally fond of strangers, but when one of their own brings someone in from the outside they're willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. I'm not hearing **anything** positive from _anyone_ about the man. He is just uniformly detested. If he does end up moving here, he's going to have a hell of a time setting up a practice."

Estella thought about that for a while. "You know," she said slowly, "maybe that's the point."

"You think maybe he's setting himself up to be disliked?" Race asked, looking troubled.

"Yes, it might be," she agreed. "Maybe he's never had any intention of moving here. Maybe the whole idea was to make Barbara _think_ he would, then marry her and when he can't get a practice established, insist that she move back to Maryland with him."

"She'll never be happy there."

"I know. I really hope I'm wrong about this." Pushing away from the breakfast table, she rose. "I think I'll call her and see if we can 'do' lunch."

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


Barbara was late. Estella had been waiting for over 20 minutes at a back table at Cappy's in Camden before the other woman arrived and joined her. _She looks stressed,_ Estella thought.

"Sorry," Barbara said breathlessly. "It's just been one of those days."

Estella laughed lightly. "Don't worry about it. I figured you'd get here eventually, so I just snagged a table." They both ordered and then Estella said, "So I've been lost in work and seriously out of the loop. Tell me what I've missed." The two spent the next several minutes catching up on the activities of mutual acquaintances. Finally, Estella asked, "How about you and Mark Renquist?"

Barbara shot her a veiled look across the table. "Is this what lunch is about?" she demanded defensively.

Estella looked up, surprised at her tone. After a moment, she replied, "Partially. I know I've been busy, but you also haven't called and I was wondering how things were going with him."

"Why? So you can keep Benton up-to-date?" Her tone was bitter.

Alarmed, Estella set her soup spoon down and reached across the table to lay a hand on the other woman's arm. "Barbara, you **know** I don't repeat what you tell me to Benton. What in heaven's name is wrong?"

Barbara took several deep breaths and then shook her head, still staring at the table. "I'm sorry, Estella. That was unfair. I didn't mean it." There was a catch in her voice and Estella wondered if she was trying not to cry.

"I know. Just tell me what's going on."

Barbara hesitated, glancing around the room quickly. Then, as if making a decision, she lowered her voice and asked, "Are you busy this afternoon?"

"Not if you need to talk. I can make all the time you need."

"All right. Let's finish lunch and then we'll go somewhere else. I'm the topic of enough gossip these days. I don't want snatches of overhead conversation to make me more of one."

"Sounds good." Estella nodded and started to eat again. "Oh, did I tell you that the kids start arriving back home for the holidays tonight?"

"No."

"Jon and Jess get in tonight and Hadji, Kefira, and the kids should be here by early afternoon tomorrow."

"How are Jon and Jessica? Have they set a wedding date yet?"

Estella laughed. "No, and it's driving Benton crazy. They don't seem to be in any hurry at all and haven't even mentioned a possible date. To be honest with you, I think they're putting it off just to goad him a little bit."

Barbara frowned. "You think they're still trying to get even for the M.I.T. business?"

"Heavens no, that was laid to rest long ago. No, I think it's more a case of them being perfectly happy just the way things are. And let's face it, Benton doesn't have much leverage to use against them any longer."

"He never would," Barbara said, a bit defensively. "He learned his lesson the first time!"

"Yes, he did." Estella grinned at the other woman. "Don't worry about it, Barbara. It's nothing more than good-natured bickering. I think Benton realizes that Jon and Jess won't start thinking seriously about marriage until they decide they're ready to have kids, and once they make up their mind to do it, it will probably happen so fast it will make his head spin."

"What about Hadji and Kefira? Are they still in the same apartment?"

"Yes, although they're starting to talk about moving. Hadji's really pushing for it . . . he says their place is just way too small for the four of them, particularly with Maia as a full-blown teenager and Vasan not far behind.

Barbara raised an eyebrow. "Vasan?"

Estella grinned. "Yes. Now that he's ten, going on eleven, he's decided that Vassey is too childish, but he also doesn't like Srinivasan. So he's decided he wants to be called Vasan."

The laughter was light and Barbara seemed to relax a bit more. "So what does Kefira have to say about moving?"

"She's dragging her feet."

"Really? Why?"

Estella thought about that for a while. "I think largely it has to do with that apartment being the first place that was 'home' to her after her parents were killed and the family's home was destroyed. She hated the palace . . . too many bad memories . . . and once they finally came back from Bangalore for good, that place became a haven for her. I think she's having difficulty letting go."

"I can understand that. They never did cohabitate, even when they were first at school, did they?"

"No," Estella said, shaking her head. "Initially, there was the issue of Hadji's being Sultan and the restrictions put on the two of them if he was to take her as his wife. Then the situation in Bangalore blew up and they married quickly, so there was never really any chance for them to. I just don't think that's the way Hadji is made, anyway. It's funny how two people can be so much alike and yet so different. I suspect that Jon and Jess would have lived together for a while even if Benton hadn't ended up forcing the issue, but that just wasn't an option Hadji was comfortable with."

"Does it bother him that his brother does it?"

"It certainly doesn't seem to. I think Hadji just accepts it as natural for Jon and Jess."

"How does Kefira feel about it?"

"Who knows?" Estella replied with a laugh. "She doesn't say. That's a fascinating dynamic to watch, Barbara. On the surface, you get the impression that Kefira is totally in sync with Hadji's wishes and lets him take the lead. But that's not the case. That girl is as opinionated and stubborn as my daughter, in her own way. She just goes about it differently. When Jess gets her back up with Jon, her temper explodes and they both end up yelling. Kefira, on the other hand . . . well, the best analogy I can make, I guess, is that she turns into a block of her beloved granite. She becomes positively immovable. She doesn't yell or scream, but Hadji simply can't get around her. I wish I could figure out how she does it!"

Barbara laughed. "You'd like to try it on Race, right?"

"Don't think I wouldn't!" Dropping her napkin onto the table, she asked, "So are you all done?"

"Yes, I'm ready. You want to follow me back to my place? I have something I want to show you."

"Lead the way."

Estella followed Barbara all the way back to Rockport and into her house. After Barbara had hung up their coats, she said, "Why don't you make yourself at home. I'm going to go put on some coffee." Estella nodded as Barbara disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

While she waited, Estella began wandering around, gazing at the living room. Like many houses in this area, it was old . . . probably close to a hundred and fifty years . . . and under Barbara's care it had retained much of it's original character. It was two storied with a gabled roof and gingerbread trim all around, and it had a wide veranda-style porch on three sides. Inside, the rooms had lofty ceilings and each of the tall windows was topped with inset stained glass. Soft, lacey curtains framed the windows, and everywhere she looked she saw the warm glow of carefully tended hardwood. The rooms she could see were all furnished with good antiques that had obviously been selected with care, and the muted shades of blue and green carried from room to room effortlessly. There were a number of paintings hanging on the walls, all original watercolors done by local artists whose names she recognized. It occurred to Estella that this house was very much a reflection of its owner . . . quiet and elegant in appearance and reflecting the loving care that was so much a part of the woman herself.

"Here we are," Barbara said, returning with a tray that contained a china coffee carafe and two cups. She set it down on the coffee table and the two women settled onto the sofa facing each other.

"All right," Estella said firmly. "Tell me what's up."

"What have you heard?" Barbara countered.

"_I_ haven't heard much at all. As I told you, I've been too out of touch. What I have heard has come via Race." She outlined what her husband had told her that morning, omitting her personal speculations on Mark Renquist's ulterior motives and Race's comments about the town's expectations from Benton.

Barbara sighed and nodded. "That sounds about right. Mark has been here a lot and he has rented the house at the top of the hill. When he's here, it seems like we're always doing something together. It's like he doesn't want me to have any free time at all."

"But why?" Estella asked.

Barbara was quiet for a long time. Finally, she looked up again and asked, "Truth?" Estella nodded. "I think he's afraid of Benton."

"I don't follow."

"He's jealous, Estella. He thinks that any free time I have, I spend with Benton, so Mark absolutely monopolizes me when he's here. I think he also figures that if he gets to me first and dominates my time, that I won't be able to see Benton as often."

Estella looked at her blankly. "Well, that's . . . You must . . ." she sputtered. Then she blurted out indignantly, "Well, isn't that just like a man!" The two women stared at each other for a minute and then erupted into laughter. Finally, Estella groped for a tissue to wipe her eyes and said, "I suppose we shouldn't laugh. It's not really funny, is it?"

"No, it's not," Barbara agreed with a sniff. "It's downright suffocating, actually."

"I can imagine."

"He's so bored here, Estella. I swear, we've done every tourist attraction and activity within a 20 minute drive of the area . . . some of them two or three times. He wants so much to go other places, but I just _can't_. When I'm on call I can't be that far away. And right now, I'm working ER so much that it's driving him crazy. I really think he's even starting to resent my patients."

"Well, you have to admit that life here is a lot different than what he's accustomed to," Estella commented, trying to be fair. "From what I've heard, big city medical practices are nothing like those in small communities like ours. The doctors don't get as close to their patients or know them as well. I'm sure that makes a lot of difference. And he is right about one thing, you know . . . familiarity does tend to foster abuse. We all have a habit of demanding more of you than we have a right to."

"No, you don't. Trust me, if you were asking more of me than I was prepared to give, I'd let you know about it. And as far as the difference between city practices and here, I know exactly what you mean. But that's the reason I don't want to practice in a city. I've tried to explain that to him, but he just doesn't get it. He just keeps repeating that I'm working too hard and that I need to get away for a rest."

"He may be right about that."

"Oh, he is. I **am** tired and I could really use some time away. He's been pushing me to come to Maryland for a long weekend over Thanksgiving."

Estella looked at her. "I thought you and Benton were scheduled to go to New York over the Thanksgiving weekend."

"We are."

"Are you planning to cancel the trip with Benton, then?" When Barbara didn't answer immediately, Estella rephrased the question. "Do you _want_ to cancel it?"

"No!"

"Well, then tell Mark you're going to New York."

"It's gotten more complicated than that," she said in a subdued voice that caused Estella to sit forward abruptly.

"Why?"

Barbara rose abruptly and strode across the room to an antique secretary that sat near the door into the entryway. Opening a drawer, she pulled out something and thrust it at Estella. "This is why," she said in a choked voice.

Estella took the box from her and opened it. Inside lay one of the most incredible engagement rings she had ever seen. A large, brilliant-cut diamond of at least two carats was mounted on a platinum band that was intricately carved with leaves and vines. A series of smaller rubies, emeralds, and sapphires were arranged on one side of the center stone forming a design that looked like a spray of blooming flowers. Estella had no doubt that a matching wedding band would nestle into the engagement ring, completing the design. It was obviously custom-designed and what it must have cost him, Estella couldn't even begin to imagine. The extravagance left her speechless.

"What do I do, Estella?" Barbara asked, almost in tears.

"How long have you had this?"

"He gave it to me last weekend."

"What did you tell him?"

"I . . . I wasn't expecting it," she said unsteadily, sitting down on the sofa again. "He proposed over dinner, making a major production out of it. He'd hired a violinist and everything." Her hand shook as she took the box back and stared down at the ring. "He made me try it on . . . said he wanted to be certain he remembered my ring size." Barbara stared at her companion. "I didn't know what to say. I just froze. I finally told him that I needed time to think about it."

"What did he say to that?"

"He didn't like it much. He also tried to insist that I wear the ring . . . said that I could take it off if I decided I didn't want to marry him." Her mouth twisted in a slightly bitter smile. "He said it wouldn't be the first time we'd been down that road."

"Did you?"

Barbara shook her head violently. "No! I told him that I wouldn't do that again. That if I put it on, it would be there to stay." Slowly, she took the ring out of the box, slipped it onto her left hand, and just stared down at it. Her hands still shook.

Estella looked at her for a long time. Then she said softly, "So now you've had time to think about it. What are you going to tell him?"

"I . . . I don't know. He wants an answer this weekend." Barbara looked up desperately. "Estella, I'm fond of Mark. He's a good man. I know most of you don't think so, but you don't know him the way I do. He's never been anything but sweet and gentle and considerate and caring to me and . . ."

Estella cut her off mid-sentence. "Do you love him?"

"I . . . I'm sure I . . . could . . ." She trailed off.

"It's a simple question, Barbara," Estella said quietly. "A yes or a no. Look into your heart and answer it. Do you love him?"

"Estella, I'm 44 years old! I've never been married. I have no family. I don't want to be alone the rest of my life!"

"**Do** . . . **you** . . . **love** . . . **him?**" Barbara closed her eyes, and Estella saw tears sliding down her cheeks. Finally, she whispered, "No." She swallowed hard. "Not the way I love Benton."

Estella reached out and caught the other woman's hand urgently. "You need to tell him, Barbara. It was different five years ago. You were right not to do it then. But things have changed. At least give yourself the chance to find out if it's possible. Talk to him before you commit yourself to anything."

Barbara shook her head wearily. "I've told you before. That's not how Benton sees me. I won't put him in that position. No, this is my decision and I'll just have to make it, no matter how hard it is." She wiped her cheeks with her fingers and sniffed. "Oh God, I'm a mess, and I need to get back to the office. I'm sorry to have dumped this on you, Estella. I just really needed someone to talk to."

"Don't worry about it. Just know that whatever you decide to do, we'll still be friends, okay?"

Barbara nodded. "Thank you."

"I'd better be going," Estella said, rising. "You need to get back to work and my research isn't doing itself while I'm sitting here. Call me, you hear?"

"I will." When Estella let herself out, Barbara was still sitting on the sofa staring down at the ring on her finger.

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


By the time Estella reached the Compound, she was seriously agitated. She'd thought about the situation the entire way home and the more she considered it, the more convinced she became that Barbara would not be happy if she decided to marry Renquist. As she came through the house, she ran into her husband in the dining room.

"There you are," he said. "I wondered what had become of you. Benton's -"

"It's crazy!" she interrupted, continuing her private thoughts aloud in a ringing tone. "And she won't even try to talk to him about it!"

Race looked bewildered. "Who won't? What are you shouting about?"

"Barbara . . . and that pompous ass Renquist!" Her voice rose in spite of his sudden, frantic gesture. "He's given her a ring! An **engagement** ring! He must have had to rob Fort Knox to pay for the damned thing. He still thinks he can _buy_ her. And he's pushing for an answer . . . he wants a yes or a no when he gets here this weekend! She's downright panicky . . . not knowing what to do!" Desperately, Race tried to interrupt her, but she was too wound up to pay any attention. "And she's **still** refusing to tell Benton the truth! Says they're just friends and that's all he'll ever want! She loves him so much . . . and he cares for her too. You can tell it! Race, how can he be that **blind**??? He's going to lose her!"

"**ESTELLA!**" Race said loudly and then clamped a hand over her mouth. Leaning forward, he hissed urgently. "Keep it down, for God's sake! Listen to me . . . Benton's back . . . he'll hear you!"

She blinked, focusing fully on her husband for the first time. Pulling his hand away, she replied, "What? Did you say Benton's back?"

"Yes! He got in a few minutes ago."

"Oh, shit," she whispered. "I thought he wasn't due back until the day after tomorrow! Where is he?"

"I don't know."

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


Benton Quest turned hastily and fled back toward his study. Shutting the door he moved to one of the large chairs in the reading area and dropped into it heavily, trying to absorb the overheard conversation. Renquist asked Barbara Mason to marry him. He felt numb. Somehow, he never imagined it would come to that. He just couldn't see what she saw in the man.

Renquist and his relationship with Barbara was all he'd been able to think about the entire time he'd been gone . . . what it would mean . . . Barbara being married to someone else. He'd never really considered that possibility before. If he thought of the future between them at all, it was just with the assumption that things would remain the way they had been always been. When he needed someone to talk to or when he was lonely and needed companionship, she was always there . . . would always _be_ there. The image of her face suddenly rose to his mind's eye . . . alive with interest, her warm brown eyes focused intently on him, and that small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. He suddenly felt cold as it occurred to him that he might never see her that way again.

Other images rose, as well. The memory of her walking down the aisle at Race and Estella's wedding, elegant and lovely; looking at he and Jonny with that stern expression as she tried to help them learn to talk again after he made such a mess of the business with M.I.T.; laughing at his sons as they picked her up out of the snow after she took a spill the first time they all went skiing together; the wind whipping her shoulder-length dark hair around her face as the two of them worked side by side on the sailboat they often took out with a group of their friends; and finally, of her face lit by twinkling lights as they all sang carols around the Christmas tree last year. All of that . . . gone.

"Oh my God . . . I'm in love with her," Benton whispered. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

He'd never even kissed her. It wasn't that he didn't find her attractive. He'd always been aware of her sexuality and Renquist's appearance had only heightened that awareness. But the significance of that lack of physicality really hadn't dawned on him until that last lonely night in Berlin. It made him realize that he'd never done **anything** to indicate to her how he felt. And now there was someone else telling her the things he never had.

All of a sudden, Estella's other words struck him. _She loves him so much . . ._

Involuntarily, he looked up at the portrait of Rachel and Jonny that had hung in every house he'd ever owned. For years, the eyes in that portrait had seemed alive to him, and even after he had said his final goodbyes to her spirit, its presence could still bring him a measure of peace. Now, as he gazed at it, he realized it was little more than a picture . . . a memory of good times . . . and nothing more. That part of his life really was over. And the next part . . . the best part of it . . . was on the brink of being lost!

Jumping up, he ran out of the room and made directly for the front closet. Yanking the door open, he grabbed his coat and began tugging it on. Hearing him, Race and Estella came into the entryway.

"Where are you . . ." Race started to say.

"I am an **idiot**," Benton cut him off. "An absolute and total **IDIOT**. You both should have smacked some sense into me years ago! I need to go out." Pulling out his car keys, he jerked the front door open and started out. Just over the threshold, he stopped and turned back. "Do me a favor, Race. Take down the portrait of Rachel in my study. I want to move it."

Race's jaw dropped. Finally, he swallowed hard and said, "Sure, Benton. I can do that. Where do you want me to put it?"

Benton shook his head. "I don't know. Just cover it and stick it in the attic for now. I'll think about it later." Then he pulled the door shut and ran for the car.

In the house, Race and Estella looked at each other.

"I think he heard you," Race said.

"Oh, Barbara is going to kill me," she moaned.

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


Ten minutes later, Benton strode purposefully into Barbara Mason's office. Her waiting room was full and several people greeted him familiarly as he crossed the room to the reception desk.

The young woman behind the desk smiled up at him. "Hi, Dr. Quest. What can I do for you?"

"Good afternoon, Nicki. I need to see Barbara. It's impor . . ."

At that moment, Barbara came into the waiting room escorting an elderly lady with snow-white hair. "Now, you simply must take the medicine I gave you, you understand me? I know you don't like to take pills, but you aren't going to get better if you don't." She looked up and spotted him. For an instant, she looked disconcerted. "Oh Benton! Hello. I didn't know you were back."

"Just got in," he said economically. "Hello, Mrs. Whitehall. I've heard you haven't been feeling well, recently. I hope you're better?" The elderly woman looked at him with bright birdlike eyes and nodded. "That's good. I'm glad. Will you excuse us?" Looking directly at Barbara with a determined expression, he said, "I need to talk to you." Catching her by the arm, he turned her around and guided her back toward her office. "I won't keep you long." If he saw the knowing smirks or relieved expressions on the faces in the waiting room, he gave no sign of it.

Barbara turned to him as he closed her office door, looking nonplussed. "Benton, what in heaven's name is it? You never come here like . . ."

"I am an idiot," he said again, tossing his coat into a nearby chair. Then, without another word, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

At first, Barbara was simply too astonished to respond. When she didn't object to his action, Benton grew bolder, teasing her lips with his tongue and pressing her more firmly against his body. He ran his hand up her back and then tugged gently on her hair until her head dropped back. He released her lips and allowed his mouth to slide along the line of her jaw to her ear and then down her neck to her throat. She gasped and shuddered, her hands clenching in his sweater.

"Benton! What are you doing?" she finally managed.

He drew back slightly and looked down into her eyes. "I spent the entire trip to Europe thinking about you and how much you mean to me. And somewhere during that time, it occurred to me that I assumed you knew how I felt. But I've never told you, have I? No, I can see that I haven't," he said, seeing her stunned expression. She drew a breath to say something, but before she had the chance, he leaned down and began to kiss her again. He was out of practice at this, too, but he did the best he could to convey his feelings in that contact. His free arm pressed her body tightly against his and he took his time, gently urging her to accept what he was trying to make her understand. Slowly, her fists relaxed and her arms slid around him as her lips softened and began to move over his.

Finally, he raised his head, more than a little dazed, and looked at her again. "I love you," he said hoarsely, "and I'm sorry I didn't make it clear sooner."

Shock was finally beginning to recede and she looked up at him, troubled. When she started to move away, Benton tightened his arms, refusing to relinquish his contact with her. "Why now, Benton?" she asked him. "What made you decide to say this to me now . . . after all this time?"

"You know why. Renquist."

Anger flared and she pushed at him roughly. "What did Estella tell you?" she demanded.

"Nothing," he replied honestly. "I haven't talked to her since before I left for Europe."

"What did she tell you before you left?" she demanded relentlessly, pulling away from him and moving out of his reach. She looked tense and very angry.

"Not a thing," he repeated, looking bewildered. "I asked her once what you said about him, but she wouldn't tell me." He paused as realization struck. "Barbara, Estella would never betray a confidence. Whatever you told her, she's never breathed a word of it to me. It really was Renquist that made me open my eyes." He turned away, running a hand through his hair. "Jon says that I can be really clueless sometimes, and he's right. I don't see what's right under my nose. The two of us . . . we've always meshed so well. You have a way of making me see things so clearly, and I feel so at peace when I'm with you. God, I wouldn't have Jon today if it hadn't been for you! I don't know when my feelings for you changed from friendship to love . . . I just know that they did." He grinned wryly, not looking at her. "I'm a little ashamed to admit it, but when Renquist first turned up and started courting you, I found it amusing. It was a game . . . the two of us vying for your attention. Sparring with him was fun. It never occurred to me that he might actually be capable of taking you away from me." Benton sighed and turned back to her, shaking his head. "The entire time I was in Berlin, I was haunted by the idea that I was missing something. I shrugged it off at first, but the thought kept eating at me and I couldn't figure out why. Then, out of nowhere, the idea occurred to me that he might ask you to marry him and it suddenly dawned on me that I had never said or done anything that would tell you how **I** felt. I just assumed you knew. But then how could you, when I didn't even realize it myself?" He gazed directly into her eyes. "So tell me, Barbara. Has he proposed?"

"He's asked me," she admitted, avoiding his gaze.

"What did you tell him?"

"That I had to think about it."

Holding his breath, Benton crossed to her again. Catching her by the waist, he drew her back into his arms and tilted her head back until she had to meet his eyes. "And have you thought about it?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"What are you going to tell him?"

She searched his face again. Slowly, he felt the tension drain out of her body and he thought he saw the first trace of a smile in her eyes. "That I can't marry him."

"Why not?" he asked, desperately wanting to hear her say the words.

"Because I'm in love with someone else." She reached up and drew his head down. Just before their lips touched again, she whispered softly, "Because I'm in love with you."

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


When Benton got home sometime later, he found Race and Estella waiting for him anxiously. He smiled at both of them when he saw their worried expressions.

"Is there a problem?" he asked, perversely amused at their agitation.

"No," Race replied hesitantly. "We were just a little worried. You _did_ go tearing out of here rather abruptly."

"I just had some unfinished business I needed to attend to."

"Did you get it all taken care of?" Estella asked.

"Yes, I did. Quite satisfactorily, in fact." He closed the front closet door and said cheerfully, "Well, I suppose I should let Mrs. Evans know that I won't be here for dinner tonight and then get unpacked." He turned toward the kitchen, but then stopped suddenly. Turning back again, he looked at Estella and said quietly, "Thank you, Estella."

She blinked at him. "For what?"

"For being such a **good** friend . . . to both of us." And then he was gone.


	5. Part V

**Part V**

  
  


"Quest."

"Renquist."

The two men faced each other again. Around them, the crowds of the annual Rockport Christmas Festival surged and ebbed. Those people close enough to hear the exchange moved back carefully. The antagonism between the two men crackled.

"She says she won't marry me," Renquist said bitterly. "It's your doing, isn't it? You told her to tell me no."

"I don't _tell_ Barbara to do anything," Benton replied tightly. "I made sure she knew how I felt about her, but what she decided to do was her choice, not mine."

"This place is bleeding her dry," Renquist retorted furiously. "She's exhausted and not thinking clearly! The people here give her no peace. They work her to death, and they don't even pay her what she's worth. Damn you, Quest, I love her. I've loved her since we were in school together! I'd care for her and cherish her and see to it that people don't take advantage of her. I'd give her everything she could ever possibly want."

Behind him, Benton could feel the crowd gelling and a low, angry murmur rippled through them. "You really don't get it, do you?" Benton said coldly. "She already _has_ everything she wants . . . everything she's **ever** wanted. Money doesn't drive her, Renquist. It never has. She chose medicine as a career because _people_ matter to her . . . particularly the people in this community. You take that away from her and you'll destroy her!" Renquist made an angry sound of denial, but before he could retort, Benton continued. "You also say they don't pay her what she's worth. What you don't understand is that a good part of the payment she receives for her services is the satisfaction she gets from helping the people who cared for her as she was growing up. That's something you could **never** give her."

"And you can," Renquist sneered.

"No, I can't give it to her either. That's something she gives herself." Benton replied. "What I can do is recognize and honor what's important to her. I'll never try to take it away or jeer at her for her concern. These people matter to me, too, Renquist. **That** we do have in common."

A stirring around them broke the tableau between the two men, and they both turned as the crowd of spectators broke like the parting of the Red Sea to allow Barbara through.

"What's going on here?" she demanded.

"Nothing," Benton said. "Renquist was just saying goodbye."

Barbara's angry gaze raked him and then turned to the other man. "Well?" she barked.

"Just wanted to have a few words with Quest," he replied, struggling to sound pleasant. Turning back to Benton he said, "I won't keep you any longer. Just wanted to say congratulations. It would seem that the best man has won."

Benton chose to ignore the heavy note of sarcasm in his tone. "Thank you," he said neutrally. "I appreciate the sentiment." The look he gave the man said he knew _exactly_ what Renquist had meant.

With that, Renquist turned and pushed his way through the crowd toward the exit. No one moved until the door had slammed shut behind him. Then Barbara turned back to Benton again. "Were the two of you about to cause a scene?" asked him sternly.

Benton glanced around the crowd and saw that many of them were grinning openly. One man even gave him a clear thumbs-up. Putting an arm around her waist, he pulled her snuggly against his side and smiled down at her impishly. "Now, would I do something like that?"

Muffled laughter around them caused Barbara to roll her eyes expressively, but she just shook her head and replied, "You are positively hopeless."

"I know. I'm sorry," he said repentantly. That caused her to laugh. Still holding her, they began to move through the crowd toward the stage at the far end of the room where Race and Estella were holding seats for them. "By the way, I've been meaning to ask you something."

She looked up at him questioningly. "What?"

"What would it take for me to convince you to sit for a portrait?"

  
  


**

THE END

**

  
  
©2000;, 2003 Debbie Kluge 

DISCLAIMER: The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest and all characters, logos, and likenesses therein, are trademarks of and copyrighted by Hanna-Barbera Productions, Inc., and Hanna-Barbera Cartoons, Inc., a Turner company. No copyright infringement is intended by their use in this story. All other material, copyright 2000, 2003 by Deborah A. Kluge. All rights reserved. Characters and stories are in no way affiliated with, approved of or endorsed by Hanna Barbera or Turner Productions. This is created by a fan for other fans out of love and respect for the show, and is strictly a non-profit endeavor.


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